


You Got Me

by One_Chicago_Fanfiction



Category: Chicago PD (TV)
Genre: Adam takes a beating on the job, Violence
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-02
Updated: 2020-05-02
Packaged: 2021-03-01 18:54:20
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 763
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23971879
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/One_Chicago_Fanfiction/pseuds/One_Chicago_Fanfiction
Summary: When Adam takes a beating on the job, Jay looks after him at home.
Relationships: Jay Halstead/Adam Ruzek
Comments: 5
Kudos: 56





	You Got Me

It happens quickly. One minute Adam’s in control, has the upper hand against the suspect. He’s already tackled him to the ground, using the weight of his own body to keep the guy down. He’s an expert at this by now, no stranger to the chase and the endorphins and the doubtless knowledge that he’s good here, that he’s done his job and done it well. 

And it’s an easy mistake, quick and habitual. He looks over his shoulder for a second—one quick glance to see where the rest of the unit is—and he feel the guy struggling against his grip, and when Adam looks back, the first blow lands fast. It’s not a great punch, not actually all that strong, but it’s jarring enough that Adam slips, gives the suspect time to shove Adam back and pull himself to his feet. Adam struggles to do the same, ready for another chase, another grab, ready not to look away the next time. 

And then the second blow lands. One hard punch against Adam’s jaw, but the guy doesn’t run. He grabs Adam’s shoulder, brings a knee up hard into Adam’s stomach, knocks the wind from him, rolls a dizzying wave of nausea through him. Adam aims a clumsy punch as he gasps for breath, lands it hard in the guy’s side, opens his mouth to cry out for help. The guy grabs him by the collar of his shirt, looks him right in the eye before throwing the last punch—the last punch before Jay and Kevin are there, grabbing the guy, twisting his arms behind his back, cuffing him even as he struggled. 

“You alright?” Jay asks, kneeling by Adam’s side with a hand on his shoulder as Kevin hauls the suspect back towards the cars. Adam sucks in one deep breath after another, and the pain is electric. Jay squeezes his shoulder. “Hey. Adam, you good? Let me see.”

“I’m good,” Adam lies through the pain, but when he looks up at Jay, lets him examine his face, he sees the change in Jay’s expression. He sees the worry. “That bad?” Adam asks, and in the next painful breath he says, “I think he broke my ribs.”

“Come on,” Jay says, already manoeuvring himself to help Adam up, to support as much of his weight as he can. “Let’s get you to Med, okay?”

“I’m fine,” Adam says, voice strained through the pain. Despite his words, he doesn’t fight it further. 

“You just said you think he broke your ribs,” Jay reminds him, a little incredulous, and Adam gives a breathy laugh that shoots pain right through him, and doesn’t argue again as Jay gets him to the car. 

By evening, Adam is home. The ribs aren’t broken, but the bruises hurt a little every time he breaths in, and every time he breaths out. He’ll be fine, the doctors told him. And it only hurts a little right now. Adam eyes the pain meds on the coffee table and tries to stop looking at his own reflection on the screen of his phone. 

“Stop staring at yourself,” Jay said, coming in from the kitchen with a bottle of beer in each hand. Adam’s eyes go straight to them. 

“You can drink on these meds. I checked.” He holds a bottle out to Adam. 

After the first long swig, and as Jay lowers himself down beside him, Adam says, “I feel so stupid, Jay. I mean, all the things we’ve seen, all the busts we’ve made, all the arrests, and I’m gonna be out the the game for, like, two weeks because of some unarmed suspect—fleeing on foot? That’s not me, man.”

“It’s not stupid, Ad,” says Jay. “And it doesn’t make you a bad cop. You’re taking it pretty personally. Could’ve happened to anyone. Take your two weeks off and be glad the guy wasn’t armed”  
“Yeah, well,” Adam takes another swig. “It didn’t though, did it?”

“Look,” Jay shifts to face Adam. “You think you’re gonna be stronger than every suspect we meet? A faster runner, a better fighter? You’re not. You’re not a superhero, Adam. None of us are. Any one of us could be sitting where you’re sitting right now. Except you’re luckier. You got me.”

And Adam manages a laugh, small, breathy, enough to send dull new jolts of pain through him. His laugh turns into a soft groan of pain, and when he looks up, Jay is barely containing his amusement. 

“Yeah,” Adam says, reaching for more painkillers. “It’s funny. Real funny.”


End file.
